Bringing Back the Chocolate Smiles
by bringmethathorizonx
Summary: When Callie befriends the smartest guy in the grade, Noah Brown, she gains more and more suspicious about his life at home, when his "hot chocolate smile" drains day after day and his humor fades away. Callie looks at Noah, and used to see Jude in him, but now she sees a guy breaking down on the inside, and wants to help. She misses his warm smile and eyes, that were now empty.
1. Hot Chocolate Smiles and Eyes

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Fosters or the Goldilocks story.**

Callie pushed open the screen door with her back, the two hot chocolates in her hand for her and her brother. The night was comfortably cool, and everything was still-not even a tree swaying in the wind.

Lena, Jesus, and Mariana were watching TV in the living room, Stef was working, and Brandon has been on the piano for two hours-no less, he missed dinner, and Callie brought up his pasta about an hour ago. It was probably still untouched.

Jude was standing with both his hands gripping onto the porch railing, gazing up at the stars, as he often did.

"Always looking up, huh, kiddo." Callie smirked, as he turned around, and grabbed his hot chocolate, muttering a 'thank you' into his cup.

"Better up than down." He said, as he nearly finished his hot cocoa in just a few sips, and held the warmth from the mug in between his hands.

"Wish I was as optimistic as you," Callie said softly, looking at the street light across from the house. After a moment of listening to the crickets, Callie said, "Nice out tonight. Not to hot, not to cold. Just right."

Jude grinned at the reference, his brown eyes practically smiling, "You used to read me that every night. Bet you five bucks I can recite the whole book."

Callie cocked and eyebrow and leaned her elbows onto the railing, "How 'bout five kisses, instead?"

Jude scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue, "Yuck."

Callie rolled her eyes, "Too old for that, are you?"

Jude craned his neck to look at the moon, "Never too old for love."

Callie looked up. He gets a strange philosophical bend looking up at the sky, as if it were giving him answers and advice. When Callie looked up, she just saw white dots.

Unsurprisingly, Jude recited the Goldilocks story impeccably, "'I need to sit down for a little while to rest my sore feet!' she thought. First, she sat in Papa Bear's great big armchair. 'Too Hard!' she screamed. Goldilocks stomped to the next chair.

Next she sat in Mama Bear's medium-sized chair. It was so soft that she sunk in! 'Too soft!' she complained, as she pulled herself out of the cushions. Finally, she sat in Baby Bear's tiny little rocking chair. 'Just right!' She laughed, and rocked until the chair broke…'"

Jude continued telling the story in a low tone-he seemed to do it semi-consciously, like he was forgetting that Callie was next to him.

When he finished telling the story, Callie heard a rustle coming from the bush in front of the porch, and it made her hands go cold and clammy, and she shuddered.

"Chilly out, huh?"

Jude looked up at Callie, a bit perplexed, "You said it was just right tonight."

Callie looked over to Jude, her head tilt sideways, "Right, I guess it was the breeze."

Jude didn't feel the cold, but didn't question it. Callie rubbed one of her arms. She's been a little fidgety at night lately, ever since Liam commented on her Instagram. Callie didn't realize she's been holding her breath, until she let out her breath.

Jude looked down into his empty mug, still holding it firmly in his grip.

The screen door creaked open, and Mariana poked her head out, "Mom wants you in now."

We started walking in, and Jude grabbed my hand, looking up at her with his innocent chocolate brown eyes. His hand began to warm up Callie's, and she smiled. His smile was like hot chocolate.

_Next Morning_

The bell to third period rang, and Callie closed her locker. _Late again. _However, she still didn't rush down the hall.

Heading to her class, she heard light footsteps behind her, and turned around to see Noah, a guy in her class, a few feet back. He had a noticeable limp.

"Ooh, nice." Callie grinned, and Noah caught up.

"Late again, I see." He said with a smirk.

Noah was the best student in class, and probably the grade, as well-never got below an A, as far as Callie was aware. She's spoken with him a few times before, and he made her realize that he was practically the Hermione Granger of their school, despite the clear fact that he was a guy. Besides that, she realized his eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and matched his hair, and his smile was contagious.

"Well, you're late, too."

"I have a reasonable explanation." He cocked an eyebrow and smiled, he had a hot chocolate smile just like Jude. Warm and comforting.

"What happened to you?" Callie asked, noticing a band- aid on the upper right of his forehead, as well; it had puppies on it.

He reached his hand up to sweep a piece of his hair from his face, but ended up dropping a piece of paper in his hand, which he probably forgot he was holding. Callie picked it up, and handed it to him, "Doctor's note?"

"Not exactly. I didn't go to the doctor or anything… I mean, we don't… have insurance, and we are a little tight on money… and…uh, I think it's just a bruise, anyway, but I'm having a hard time walking at a regular pace, so my dad just wrote me a note, and it will probably work out okay."

"Looks like more than a bruise," Callie said, eyeing his limp, "You should really get it checked out though, if you don't get it treated, it can be worse, and permanent damage can be done…"

Noah bit his lip, "No, no it doesn't hurt that much. It's nothing. I'm sure." He gave her a sweet smile.

They walked in silence for a few seconds. They were probably a minute late now, which won't earn her a detention yet, just an angry glare from Mrs. Yates.

"You never said how you did it. Did you fall?"

"Yeah. Down the stairs. Probably looked funny on the security cameras we have around the house." He said, swallowing hard at the end.

_Security cameras?_ Callie thought, _if they're so tight with money, why does their house need security cameras? _

She brushed the thought away. She's not judging him or his family or anything. She doesn't know them, and she doesn't like when people judge her. They don't know her, or her lifestyle, or anything, just like she didn't know Noah's.

Noah bit his lip again, and they approached the door to the classroom. Noah gestured her to walk in first, as he held the door opened and smiled. Everyone seemed to be in partners, talking amongst themselves.

Mrs. Yates eyed them both suspiciously, then the note in Noah's hand.

"I've paired everyone up in partners at the beginning of class for the research paper I've told you about yesterday. You two will have to be partners."

They both nodded, and Callie took her seat in the corner of the classroom. Mrs. Yates was examining the note Noah gave to her, and nodded, "Noah, since this isn't a doctor's note, I'll just have to give it to the nurse, and she'll have to call your parents later, just to make sure it's genuine."

Noah turned pale, and spit out, "My parents are both working later. They work late. Every night."

"Well, what about at this hour?"

Noah looked uncomfortable, "Now, too. They've been working a lot- things are crazy at home…. personal thing, um, but trust me, I'm not lying or anything. Really."

"They must be home sometime. An e-mail can always go out, as well."

"We don't have e-mail. We don't have a computer." He spoke fast, and his words all collided together as if it were just one long word.

Mrs. Yates squinted her eyes at him, "I've emailed your parents just last week. They ask me to keep them updated on how you are doing on a regular basis."

Noah's hands became clammy, "W-well, we had to sell-"

Mrs. Yates interrupted him mid-sentence, "Lying will only do you worse, Noah. Is everything okay at home? Are you really hurt?"

"Look a lot is going on at home. Can you just leave it at that?" Noah was unusually stern.

Mrs. Yates pinched her lips together, "I think I should talk to your guidance counselor. It will be good to talk to someone."

Noah's eyes became wide, "IT'S FINE!" He shouted, loud enough for most of the class to look up from their desks, including Callie, in shock, that the "teacher's pet" just yelled at the teacher.


	2. Standing up and Stepping Down, hard

_**Callie**_

I took a bite of my apple as I swung by backpack onto one of the stools in the kitchen. Flipping open my U.S. history binder, I tried to organize my notes. Noah and I are supposed to be partners, but Mrs. Yates sent him somewhere almost as soon as he walked into class today, and we didn't even get to discuss how we were going to work on this. It was a strange thing, though, how he yelled at Mrs. Yates; him doing that sent chills up my spine, especially since just last week he offered to assist Mrs. Yates in the extra help lessons during lunch hour. He seemed to have lost his temper out of nowhere. What was just as strange though was the way his eyes widened with shock after his outburst, as if he was surprised that it came from him, and how Mrs. Yates didn't get angry with him - - - just spoke softly to him, and he quickly nodded and turned on his heels and left class with a limp.

We have to make a slideshow, due in two weeks, on the Civil War- - - which was fine with me, history was one of the only subjects in school that I enjoyed. That, and also English. I don't understand math too well, and chemistry and math go hand in hand, so neither are easy. I liked gym in my old school better - - not to say that I would rather be in that lifestyle again - - - because all we did was yoga and "meditation", as my teacher called it, but to me, it was naptime. I didn't like French either; I have a hard enough time speaking English. I liked history because it's about learning from your mistakes.

I took out my phone and checked my Instagram, scrolling through all the pictures. Out of curiosity, I clicked onto Noah's. Scrolling through his photos, I found out he surfed; he didn't seem the type, but then again, this is California.

The door opened, and Jesus and Brandon walked in. Jesus had his headphones in, and I can hear them from where I'm sitting… Cinema by Benny Benassi. Brandon was scrunching his nose to his brother, who probably didn't talk much on their walk home, and then looked up at me, smiled, and walked over.

"Hey," he said, walking to the refrigerator, "you have that slideshow assignment for Yates' class, right?"

He stood across from me, with a bowl of grapes in front of him. He ate a few, and then threw one up into the air, catching it in his mouth when it fell.

I raised my eyebrows, "How impressive."

Brandon winked and laughed, "One of my many, many, many talents."

Rolling my eyes, and answered, "Yes. And yes, I have the project."

"I got paired with freaking Leo Perez."

"Don't know him." I said, reaching for a grape.

Brandon noticed, and picked a grape, and threw it up in the air.

"No,hey-" I began, but then surprisingly caught it in my mouth.

Brandon nodded, as if unimpressed, "You wouldn't have caught it if not for my excellent aim."

We both laughed, and then Brandon said, "Who'd you get paired with? Wish she'd let us choose our own partners. Would've been convenient for us- we live together, so we'd get it done faster without having to meet up. And Leo Perez…well, we have a very competitive past together. He's a musician, too… long story short, the eight grade talent show was pretty messy."

"Put the past behind you," I shrugged at the unusually talkative boy, "and I got Noah Brown."

Brandon put both his hands onto the counter, "Guaranteed A plus, then! Damn."

"Do you know him?" I asked, and added, "Well?"

"We used to be partners in biology. I don't remember him ever not knowing an answer to a question. He's pretty on top of it all-he's funny, though."

I nodded, "Yeah."

_**Next Day, Noah POV**_

I've been refraining from visiting the school nurse, even though I've desperately been wanting to. My ankle was throbbing. I wrapped it up with a bandage, so it's a little better, and I've been taking antibiotics a lot.

I mumbled to myself as I was collecting my books from my locker, "Is it broken? No. Am I bleeding? No. So suck it up, you baby."

I frowned, _I'm perfectly fine. I can't be a child anymore; I've got to suck up the pain. _I shook my head, as if it would help me stop thinking. Just stop thinking.

I didn't listen. I thought back to yesterday, when Mrs. Yates sent me to speak with my guidance counselor, as if I needed to speak to anyone. Everything was fine; I'm okay, and she should stay out of my personal life. Instead of going to the guidance counselor, I went outside to a picnic table to study. Before long, though, worries started rushing in: _What if she calls guidance? What if she finds out I'm cutting class? Will she really email my father? No, she won't. What would happen if I get another bad grade? What would happen if my father finds out… I promised him… what if he gets too angry again and…and..._

My dad is not the bad guy … and it wasn't his fault, it was the divorce… it happens to everyone who gets divorced. It will get better, just give him some time…My head was spinning, and I felt lightheaded, and I think I heard a voice… wait…

"Are you okay? You look pale." Callie said, standing in front of me at my locker. How long has she been there?

"What? Oh, I'm okay. I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Callie looked at me, her eyebrows scrunched together. She looked kind of cute.

"Everything is okay." I was reassuring myself more than her.

She must've been suspicious, but didn't want to push it, so she nodded, "Okay, so about this project… my house is pretty chaotic most days, so I was thinking, would it be okay if we do it at yours?"

"Huh? Oh, the project. Right. That's fine." I nodded a lot, a grinned, "Just… it can't be after 6:15. My dad usually gets home then... and uh, it's a school night, so he'll be angry if I'm not studying by then."

Callie nodded, "You study a lot, don't you…"

I bit my lip, and nodded, and we headed to class.

All through class I was mostly drawing circles on my paper. I tried to snap myself out of it. _You have to be the best of the best or you're not my son. _I constantly hear that in my head.

My parents got a divorce a little over a month ago. I didn't really see it coming, and I'm too hesitant to ask what caused it. I decided that I wanted to live with my dad, since he seemed to be taking the divorce worse, and I thought he would want me around, or else the house would be lonely. My mom went to live with my aunt for a while. My dad became harder, since then. He's been coming home and drinking a lot of wine. I feel like my parents are now playing a game of tug-of-war with me, trying to be the better parent. My dad, I guess, has been really focused on my grades. He's always cared about them, and so has my mom, but lately he's been making me study two hours a night, and wouldn't have it if I got below an A. Around the time of the divorce, I got distracted from school, and my grades slipped. When my dad found out about it after my teacher emailed him one night, he hit me. He grabbed my collar, got so close to my face that I felt the wine in his breath, and said, "_You have to be the best of the best or you're not my son." _I was shaking when he said that; his words stung, and so was my face from where he hit me. I yanked free from him, and said, "_Dad, I have a lot on my plate right now."_

I soon found out that what I said was the wrong thing to say, because he practically exploded, "_AND YOU THINK I DON'T? YOU DIDN'T HAVE YOUR HEART RIPPED OUT BY THE WOMAN YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH! YOU GET TO SEE HER EVERY WEEKEND, AND SHE STILL LOVES YOU. GODDAMMIT, NOAH, YOU'RE SELFISH TO SAY THAT YOU HAVE A LOT ON YOUR PLATE. I HAVE A LOT ON MY PLATE. HOW DARE YOU MAKE THIS AN EXCUSE TO NOT PAY ATTENTION IN SCHOOL, IF ANYTHING THIS SHOULD MAKE YOU WANT TO STUDY HARDER."_ My fathers face was red, but then his eyes widened, and looked down a little. When he looked back up, they were still stern, but softer, and they made me feel bad for him and realize what he's going through, "Noah, I may have lost your mother, but I will still be happy if I have a successful son. It will let me know I at least did one thing right. Now you promise me that you won't get below an A again."

Trembling, I went and hugged my dad, promising not to fail him as a son. I wouldn't only fail myself, but I'd fail him, as well.

I've kept my grades high since then, even though it's been hard, and I keep finding new distractions that I never thought I'd like. Surfing is one of them, but if he finds out about it… it will be messy.

I've known my dad drank a lot every night, but it wasn't until two days ago I made a comment to him about it. One night he came home, and I was sitting on the couch in the other room, hidden from the kitchen. I sat there in silence, as my dad drank nearly the whole bottle of wine that was full before.

I finally stood up from the couch, and my dad called out, "Shouldn't you be studying?"

"I am. I was. I'm taking a break."

"I don't think you should be dilly-dalying…" He said, narrowing his eyes.

I frowned, and gestured to his wine glass, "I don't think you should drink this much every night."

Bad idea.

He gripped the wine bottle and got up, "Excuse me?"

I swallowed, "I said, I don't think it's… healthy… to be drinking all this alcohol. I mean, I know… it's helping you cope, but this isn't a good coping method."

His lips pinched together, "I didn't raise you to tell me what to do with my life, alright, _boy?"_

"I'm trying to help you."

"I don't need help from a wimpy, idiot sixteen year old boy!" My dad growled.

I grabbed the bottle from his hand, and smashed it to the ground, wine spreading all over the white tiles of the kitchen.

"This is for your own good." I said, with confidence at first, but if looks could kill…

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IS BEST FOR ME, AND STOP PRETENDING YOU DO."

"I do know," I swallowed, "that you are turning to alcoholism as a result of you and mom separating."

"HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF SUCH A THING, NOAH. YOU ARE ONE WISE-ASS KID CALLING ME AN ALCOHOLIC."

My palms were clammy, but I clenched my fist, "You always talk about how I'm weak, but have you looked in the mirror later? Turning to this instead of facing your problems is cowardness."

He snatched the broken bottle from the floor, and held it to my forehead, "Calling your own father a coward, huh? And you think that makes you brave?"

I was trembling, my eyes widening at the sight of the broken class an inch from my skin. He wouldn't. He's my dad, and…this isn't real.

"No." I finally choked out.

"Let's see how brave you are, boy." He swiped the glass across my forehead, and it stung. I closed my eyes and bit back a yelp.

"This isn't a bravery test." I said, as sternly as I possibly could.

I put my hand to my head, and there was blood on my hand. My heart was racing. My dad. My dad is doing this to me. The man who was supposed to love me, is physically and emotionally hurting me.

"Again with the wise comments, huh? Raised you to be wise, not a wise-ass."

"I guess there's no one to blame but yourself."

Next thing I knew I was on the ground, and his foot was crushing my ankle, and I cried out in pain. My hands wrapped around my ankle, and I held my tears.

My dad let out a cold laugh, "Next time, take a step in my shoes before telling me what I should and should not do."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The bell rang to end third period that day, and I snapped from my thoughts. Everyone began to get up, and Callie walked up to me.

"So, uh… how does today sound? You know, for the project?"

"Right, that's good. We can walk to my house after school, just meet me at my locker. Oh, and make sure… no later than 6:30."

When Callie left, Mrs. Yates walked to my desk, "I spoke to your guidance counselor yesterday. He said that you never stopped by. Where did you go?"

I stuttered, "I…was outside."

I can't lie easily.

"Is there something on your chest that you need to let out?"

"No. That's why I didn't want to go to guidance."

"Well, you should have come back to class then."

I nodded, "I know."

_I didn't want to, though._

"Well, I have no choice but to give you detention then. Today. After school. Two hours."

Crap.


End file.
